


That’s Privilege

by Resistance



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darrell has a hard time accepting some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That’s Privilege

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a way to deal with finding out Chase attended a rally. This was how I did it.

_Chase’s motorcoach...._

Glancing up from his phone, Darrell frowned, “People think you’re dating.”

Ryan’s eyes snapped up to him not caring that his kart went careening into a wall yet again. Even Chase’s snicker or the sound of him zooming ahead in the race weren't enough for Ryan to look back to the screen. He furrowed his brows, “Who thinks who is dating?”

He was laying stretched out across the couch with his head in Darrell’s lap and his sock-clad feet in Chase’s lap. He was extremely comfortable; this was his usually spot to kick Chase’s ass at Mario Kart. More often than not, while Ryan and Chase played, Darrell made snarky comments and surfed the web on his phone paying just enough attention to the video game to dodge the various objects Chase would throw at Ryan when he lost.

“People on the internet.” Darrell replied, gesturing with his phone. They both knew all too well that Darrell lurked in the darker parts of the NASCAR fandom, in places neither of them want to go, places no sane driver should go. And what was worse was that he reported back both the good and bad that he found. It was hardly surprising he found something that implied or flat out talked about NASCAR's worst kept secret.

“You mean people on the internet think _we’re_ dating. Everyone knows that. Even NASCAR knows that! I think they like it. Y’know like they can be all ‘yeah, our CEO and some of our dumbest ex-drivers might endorse the next Hitler, but we have a black driver and a Hispanic driver and we even kinda imply we have two gay drivers too, please don’t protest us’.”

Darrell shook his head, “Well, yeah, but that’s not what I mean. That stuff is mostly tame, like people reposting our tweets or snapchats. This time, I mean they’re talking about _you_ without me. You and him dating.” He pointed to Chase, who by then had managed to pause the game to save Ryan complaining that he cheated on the restart. Ryan complained that Chase cheated often.

“Me?!” Chase wrinkled his nose. “People think I’m dating _him_?”

“Hey! Don’t give me that look! It’s not like I would ever wanna date you and your daddy fetish.”

“He’s not that old. Fifteen years doesn’t make ‘daddy’.“

“The 9, okay? The 9.”

“Fuck you, Ryan.”

Ryan looked back up at Darrell, snickering, “Who thinks we’re dating?”

“I told you. People. Like I guess me and you aren't obvious enough. Or maybe they can handle the fact you’re gay, but like gay and dating a black guy? That’s too much for them. I dunno.” Darrell shrugged.

Chase sighed, “That’s not fair. You don’t know it’s got anything to do with race. People think all different guys are dating and it doesn't matter. You don’t always gotta make it about that.”

Darrell looked at him, “Privilege. The only people who don’t think it’s about that are white people. Me and Ryan couldn’t make it more obvious. I know NASCAR throws you and him together for events, but me and him don’t hide shit all over our own social media and NASCAR's. Not even them making me get a girlfriend hides anything.”

Ryan snorted, “You got a white girl.”

Chase shook his head, “People don’t say me and Kasey are together and I don’t care. It’s not a big deal what people write on those things. Most of the guys don’t even check them like you do just for that reason.”

“That’s privilege, Chase. You don’t get it. You can go to a fucking Trump rally and no one—“

“You know my dad guilted me into that. I didn’t want to and I don’t agree with him.” Chase snapped, sick of that same argument.

Darrell frowned, “I know. But that’s the thing. You have white privilege. You can go to that and it doesn’t matter. Every damn thing I do matters. I wear a hoodie and that matters. Guys just like me got shot for that. The music I listen to matters. The way I talk matters. The people I hang out with matter. The way I spend my money matters. You don’t have a clue what it’s like to represent your whole fucking race in your sport. And now they can’t even let me have my fucking boyfriend and they have to find a way to pair him with another white guy.”

“Babe.” Ryan sat up, putting himself between Darrell and Chase, “I don’t get it either. And I know I have the same privilege that Chase has. But I know this isn’t a good reason to fight with him right now. He didn’t write about that and you know he's not racist. And it’s not his fault he’s white. And besides that, I love _you_.”

Darrell’s frown softened, “ _You_ wouldn’t go to a Trump rally.”

Ryan shook his head with a sigh, “He already got shit from Kasey about that and from Dale about that and from us about that and from the smart section of our fan base about that. He doesn’t need more shit. It’s not fair. We’ve gotta let it go and trust him. Either that or you’ve gotta buy a better TV for our Xbox because playing Mario Kart is way better in here than on ours.”

Darrell fought the smile for a few seconds, but let it come, “It wasn’t _my_ fault our big TV fell off the counter 'cause the motorcoach was shaking so hard. Now gimme that controller, I feel the need to kick his ass.” He snatched the device from Ryan’s hand.

Ryan glanced over a Chase just long enough to see his grateful smile before all eyes turned to the TV.


End file.
